The last dairy entry of H.J.Potter
by Wrastrix
Summary: Katlin comes across a dairy from a century ago, and the owner of it was one of great importance...


Katlin searched through the rubble of the ancient building. No one really knew she was up here, but that didn't matter. She didn't care. So what if she died here? She wanted to get out of her home and live a normal life. Her parents had been killed years before by a monster, wizard no doubt. Apparently, this place used to be a prison, a wizard prison called Azkaban. That was over a century ago. This monster had destroyed this place, and the prisoners inside, left to burn alive. Apparently, he had been a normal person all those years ago, until evil took him. She stepped on something, and looked down to see a skull looking up at her. Her face wrinkled in disgust, you could still see some muscle on the face. As her gaze looked down, she noticed he was holding something. A book. It was black, simple, with some gold writing on the top.  
  
She reached down carefully, and picked it up. She noticed that pages were stiff, probably with old age. There seemed to be nothing in it, apart from one page, which was stuck together with something. After several minutes, she managed opened it.  
  
  
  
Christmas day, 1995  
  
Why.  
  
That's the question I've been asking myself for 14 years.  
  
Why did my parents die?  
  
Why did my sister die?  
  
Why am I the boy who lived?  
  
Oh, I know what they're all thinking.  
  
Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived! He has the best life anyone could ask for!  
  
What a load of rubbish.  
  
You see my life has never been 'great'. Far from it. I used to hope and pray that I wouldn't live till the next day every morning.  
  
This is all a lie on my part, a façade.  
  
No one sees past this uncomfortable mask I have worn day in and day out. All they see is the 'happy' life of Harry Potter.  
  
It's a show, all of it is.  
  
I just hope one day someone finally sees past it. All the lying, all the betraying I've lived with, the world can only be placed onto someone's shoulders for so long, but, of course, they break eventually.  
  
Just like anyone.  
  
I know some answers, though. Like why my parents are dead. They died because they were too powerful. I blame my father though. I hate him, always have.  
  
Yes I know, I always seem to start crying whenever Sirius or someone else talks about my parents, I carry on about how much I miss them, and I defend for them.  
  
You know, when I had heard my father's voice through my patronus, I thought I would scream. That's why I fainted. The burning hatred was released, onto myself.  
  
And when I saw myself on the other side of the bank, that night when Sirius had been caught by the ministry. I lied. It wasn't me; it was my father who I saw. I am becoming him more and more each day, and this is where it turns back to Voldemort.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Katlin nodded. She had heard of Voldemort, a feeble dark wizard who lived around Harry Potter's time. She had read about both people in a book from her teacher. They were enemies, who had tried to kill each other more times that you could shake a stick at. Harry Potter had been found dead, in a place in Wales. No one had ever found out what he died of, or where he was buried. She continued to read:  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I feel sorry for him.  
  
I really do.  
  
The reason why he killed James Potter was because he was the heir of the most evil sorcerer known to mankind. Lord Demeatrious.  
  
My father had found a spell, which could bring him back, and Tom was afraid. Oh yes he was. And he tried to kill me because he thought I was even more powerful than my father, and I proved that by surviving the Avada Kedavra curse.  
  
He doesn't want me to become like Demeatrious, with his Snake Walkers as supporters. He's trying to stop me now, even as I write this in this rotting cell.  
  
Why am I in here? For the simple reason of attempting suicide.  
  
Crazy, huh?  
  
No one would have guessed that it would be me who ends up here.  
  
So what if I was taking my life into my own hands, everyone's done it once in their life.  
  
But, the ministry caught me before I could jump from graves end castle, where my ancestor is buried. I haven't seen my godfather since.  
  
I think he's ashamed of me.  
  
I am in here until I'm sane, or my life ends. Whichever comes first? Me, I prefer the life-ending bit. Adds more depth to things.  
  
I really hope that I never have to face hogwarts again. Old moldywart and his spot pickers can take the castle for all I care.  
  
I wish him all the luck in later life.  
  
I will rot in here.  
  
  
  
"I will rot in here, until my bones go brittle with the sun, if there ever is any."  
  
Katlin turned around to see someone standing about 30 foot away from her. Even from that distance, she could tell who it was. It was the monster that had killed he parents, Lord Draconeeteem.  
  
He walked a few feet in front, as Katlin took a few feet back.  
  
"G-get back! Please!" She whimpered as she felt a bone crack under her feet.  
  
"Please don't stutter, it makes you sound like Quirrel." His black eyes glistened, making him look less evil. He looked at her confused face, and then brushed off a bit off dirt from his robe.  
  
"A bit before your time. Defence against the dark arts teacher at Hogwarts." He had an unreadable look on his face.  
  
"Hogwarts doesn't have defence against the dark arts lessons." He was about twenty feet away from her, but she couldn't move.  
  
"They did in my time."  
  
"How would you know? You've been evil since you were born; it's in your blood. You've never been to hogwarts, they only let kind students in there, that's something you lack." This remark flew out of her mouth before she was able to stop herself. She instantly regretted, and expected what he was going to throw at her. Instead, he threw his head in the air and smiled. She could have sworn a tear fell down his cheek.  
  
"It hasn't always been like this, you know. All the killings I do, it's not always been me. I was once," he looked at her. "Much different than I am now."  
  
She could almost believe him. Almost.  
  
"But, you're evil. You're not kind, and you've never cared about people. You, You even killed my parents. Or have you killed so many people, that you can't even remember that bit?" She had tears rolling down her cheeks. She moved to wipe them away, but he was quicker. He grabbed her hands, and held them by her side. He looked at he with a piercing gaze, but they softened, along with his voice.  
  
"I remember you're parents, I remember you. But, I didn't kill them, that's what you were told. You see, I knew your father of old, and he wasn't ready to give up everything, so he asked me to pretend to kill him and your mother. They're still alive. They just never want to see you again." She looked him in the eyes, but they trailed up to his forehead, where, just ender the long, greasy black hair, was a scar. A lightening bolt shaped scar. And only one person ever had this scar.  
  
"Y-You're.who are you?" She whispered, looking at his eyes. She didn't wait for an answer. "N-no, it can't be. You're dead, a-and, you're supposed to have green eyes, and messy hair, a-and." she swallowed, and found that he was smiling. "This is what evil does to you." He looked at he again, and then at the diary, releasing her hands. "I remember what I wrote in there. I wrote that, 4 days before I became, this." Suddenly, she saw behind his mask. She saw, a fifteen year old, which was fighting, to get out of the costume.  
  
"How?" She asked, sitting down on a piece of wall. He followed suit, and took a deep breath.  
  
"Long story. I guess, I became angry, you see, I left me, H-Harry Potter behind. I couldn't face all the lies anymore. You see, my mother had once told me something. When I was born, I fell from a building, but I held onto the ledge. And as the years went by, my grip loosened, until all the pain and all my suffering became too much, and I let go of the ledge. That's how I become what I am today." He looked at her for a few moments and then sighed.  
  
"Why don't my parents come back for me?" She asked, she seemed to be able to trust him, now that she knew who he was.  
  
"They don't want to see you anymore. You see, when I was you're age, there used to be this groups called death eaters. They were the supporters of Voldemort, and your grandfather was in his inner circle. Your father, bless his Slytherin socks, thought it wise if he left you with your mother, because you were in danger of becoming evil if you stayed with them any longer." A spasm of pain ran through his face. " They've done something again." He muttered to himself. He got up to leave, but she pulled on his hand.  
  
"Am I allowed to tell anyone that I've seen you?" She asked, ice blue eyes looking into black.  
  
"Would they really believe you if you did?" He smiled, and walked away, with her looking at his footsteps in the dust. 


End file.
